


What You Don't Know

by NikkiElle



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: 1994 Prison World (Vampire Diaries), Angst, Bonnie Bennett & Damon Salvatore Friendship, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Epiphanies, Friendship, Humor, Minor Bonnie Bennett/Jeremy Gilbert, Multi, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-26
Updated: 2018-05-15
Packaged: 2019-03-10 04:29:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,835
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13494988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NikkiElle/pseuds/NikkiElle
Summary: Bonnie is done. Damon is confused. As they make the impossible journey back from 1994 they're faced with the questions: Who are you? and Who do you want to be? Will this venture of self discovery connect them, or have they been connected all along? BAMON





	1. Help Me!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! So this is my first fic. This is my take on S6 and onward because although I love the characters, TVD's story-lines are hot mess. Hope you Enjoy!
> 
> Disclaimer: No copyright infringement intended Tell me what you think! :)

"Agh! Bonnie! What the hell?!" Damon exclaimed, wringing his scorched hand. He glared daggers at the smirking Bennett.

"Uh, oh. My hand slipped. Get out of my way." Bonnie demanded in a threatening monotone. She arched up a challenging brow, when he made no action to move.

Being in the Prison World for the last four months has been ironically...eventful. The first month Bonnie was convinced she would have ended up murdering Damon. In fact she kept a tally of all his offenses. She promised that once he reached fifty she  _actually_  would kill him.

However, when he committed his fiftieth misdemeanour in week six, she decided she couldn't  _actually_  kill him; because being the only living thing on earth without the advantage of magic, is a worse fate; than being stuck with Damon, for an undetermined length of time, without the ability to fry his brains.

Now this definitely wasn't because of his  _oh so charming!_  personality. It was because no matter how much he grated on her nerves, ironically, problems always seemed to be resolved easier when the two of them worked together. They were the personification of 'oxymoron'.

Also, being pitifully magicless has given her the opportunity to be creative in her torture methods. For example, she had just  _'accidentally' on purpose_  burned his hand with a match as she lit candles, preparing for another vain attempt at getting in touch with her magic.

"You know BonBon, if the definition of insanity is: doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results; I believe you're going insane.

Bonnie paid him no mind as she lit the half-melted down candles, placed around the room. Damon followed her path, blowing the newly-lit flames out. He swiftly plucked the last candle she was lighting, out of her hand.

"Alright, this is an intervention. Bonnie, we've been here for four months. If you had the solution, we would have found it by now, don't cha think? So, take a well needed break and come with me to the grocery store. We need eggs."

They held a short staring game before Bonnie finally relented. " _Fine_. Let me get my shoes."

Damon glanced down to her bare feet but was quickly distracted by the  _Pointer Sisters_  straining against the fabric of her V-neck, white knit blouse. Since being in the Prison World Bonnie has been much more...liberal, with her choice of clothing.

Damon, logically, reasoned that the switch from jeans to shorts and skirts; from sweaters to tank tops and dresses, was because of the never ending summer they were subjected to. However he found himself staring for longer than he should have when she descended down the stairs every morning.

He was used to seeing the witch in a long flowy top, jeans and a jacket. Nothing that ever really emphasised figure; which therefore, made him assume, she was covering up the fact that she had nothing going for her. Needless to say, he was surprised to see the witch actually had  _a lot_  going on for her.

 _The girl had body_. Of course he shouldn't take notice because she's his girlfriend's bestfriend, but he was still a person with exceptionally, working vision.

After maybe three weeks of being here Bonnie completely ditched any effort to wear a bra; not that he was complaining. She had come into the kitchen, while he was cooking breakfast, as 'I'm So Excited' blasted from the sound system. The words 'I'm so excited and I just can't hide it,' were very befitting for the twin peaks poking at the grey tee she was wearing. Hence their nickname the 'Pointer Sisters'.  _Definitely_  one of Damon's personal best.

"Damon?" He was broken out of his short lived reverie. "Have you seen my Docs? The black ones."

"Yeah, I put them in your closet. You left them by the door.  _Again_." With a raised brow, he tilted his head to the side as he replied with an accusatory tone.

"Don't look at me like that. I don't know all the triggers of your mild ODC. Your gonna have to give me a list."

"First, I don't have OCD, it's called being  _tidy._ Something I definitely need to give you a few pointers on..." He jabbed, eyeing the ever-growing pile of clothes, on the chair, in the corner of her room. In truth, if he didn't already know it was there, he wouldn't have realised there was a chair.

"Also, after the first time you did it, I told you: shoes in front doors are one of my... irks; so you knew not to leave them there. Personally, I think you're looking to pick a fight, because we haven't argued in over twenty-four hours and you're experiencing withdrawal." He ended with a knowing smirk.

Bonnie rolled her eyes to the back of her head and crossed her arms across her chest, shifting her weight to her right leg.

"Honestly though, its safety precaution. Sometime, you're gonna walk into a room, trip over a shoe and crack your judgy little head open. Then who am I going to annoy into getting me out of this hell hole? Put your shoes on the shoe rack, or in your closet when you take them off. It's just common sense."

"Alright, sorry  _Dad._ "

"I prefer  _Daddy_." He shot back with a wink.

Bonnie's nose scrunched up in a show of  _'eww'_  "You did not just take it there."

Damon ignored her statement and snapped a sharp finger at her still bare feet. "Shoes. Now"

"We have absolutely  _nothing_  to rush to." she returned as a matter of fact.

"Just 'cause there seems to be no movement in time, it does not mean I like to wait."

Bonnie let out an exasperated scoff, but gave a grudging turn of the lips, and turned on her heel to retrieve her boots from the closet.

 _For all the people to disappear into a bright light with, it had to be_ Damon.  _Somebody. Anybody. Anything_.  _Help me_!

* * *

The wheels of the trolley scrapped against the floor as Damon lazily leaned his weight on the handle bar and pushed the trolley through the dairy aisle.

"You know, and don't take this the wrong way but is not weird sleeping with someone that's been with your brother?"

Damon gave her a weary yet threateningly suspicious stare. He furrowed his eyebrows as he tried to figure out how, him asking her to put the eggs in the trolley, correlated with his sex life.

Sensing his defensive apprehension, Bonnie added, "I'm not trying to send any subliminal messages regarding your relationship, it's just...isn't that sorta, kinda indirect incest. Not even mentioning that you slept with her birth mom."

"I don't see how that concerns you."

"You're right it doesn't, but I feel like this is the only time I'll be able to ask."

"Yah, well you thought wrong."

"Okay, sorry, touchy subject"

"You should be questioning the fact that Baby Gilbert is the only man, no sorry,  _boy_ , that actually wants you. Couldn't find a guy your own age so you settled for a whiny punk, two years younger than you. Not to mention, said whiny punk is the brother of your so-called sister. Now, don't you think that's sorta, kinda incestuous?"

Bonnie's body tensed as she was slapped by his harsh words. She tilted her chin up and tightened her jaw. She gave him a hard stare, looking for a response that will not show just how deeply he cut into her.

He won't get the satisfaction of knowing he successfully dodged a difficult question,  _and_  embarrassed her in the process.

"You didn't have to answer if you didn't want to." She bit back, her posture still rigid.

"Bonnie..." His face fell in shame and his brows knotted together, as he hesitantly reached out a pathetic hand in the witch's direction.

She sharply turned on her heel and marched away from him. She headed towards the home decor aisle, in search of her favourite cinnamon vanilla candles.

Her vision blurred for a moment before she was face to face with the vampire. Much like he did this morning, he snatched the candle she was holding out of her hand and placed it back on the dusty shelf.

"Bonnie, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings.

Seeing the witch's expression of contemplation, he continued,

"...you know me; all kinds of shit spills out of my mouth. But you have to admit, it was kinda tru-"

Bonnie jabbed a long finger in front of his face "Ssh, shut up a sec."

"Wha-" In his guilt, he hadn't heard the nursery rhymes playing from the parking lot. He looked towards the door, then back at the witch in front of him, who gave him a look of equal confusion. He stalked off towards the tune, the witch hot on his heels.

They came to a stop at the mini merry-go-round outside the store.

Bonnie scowled and slowly turned her head to the vampire beside her. "Damon. I don't get this joke."

Said vampire raised his arms in surrender. "I didn't turn it on. I don't carry quarters."

"Well if you didn't, who did?" She asked, craning her neck around to spot anything else out of the ordinary.

Damon rolled his eyes at her eagerness. "No one did. In case you haven't noticed, we're the only people on the face of the earth. It's probably broken."

"We don't know for sure that we're the only people in the entire world. Someone or something is here, Damon."

He gave a soft shake of his head and let out an exasperated sigh. "You know I don't buy into your crap of wishing on a star, or waiting on your fairy godmother to show up. All you're doing is wasting energy and time we have way too much of."

" _Maybe_ , my wishes have been answered and this is some sort of message." She smugly retorted.

"I've accepted that we're stuck in this hell. Why can't you?" He gritted through his teeth.

At his words, Bonnie's mood swung within a half second. Her bright eyes narrowed into slits. She felt a sudden surge of anger and betrayal burst through her pores. She felt her skin tickle at the rush of emotion. She didn't entirely know why she was feeling it, she just knew she was. "Give me your ring." She growled.

"What?" His eyes also transformed into slits; out of confusion because he thinks he heard her wrong. Out of anger because he thinks he heard her right.

"Give. Me. Your. Ring." She menacingly enunciated. Her hands shot out to forcefully remove his ring but his hand formed a tight fist to prevent the ring slipping down his middle finger.

Damon had to hold himself back from using violence, as he is used to doing in a situation like this. The witch had no magic, so it wouldn't be a fair fight. Secondly, she was obviously acting out on high emotion. Something he is quite familiar with.

He settled for staring the witch down and nudging her away with his elbow. She finally loosened her grip on his fist, and took a step back.

The tension in the witches body released. Realising what she had tried to do, she took a sharp intake of breath and attempted to collect her thoughts.

"Hope is all I have, Damon. So if you're done. Then be done." She forcefully nudged his arm with her shoulder, as she stomped away to continue her search.

Damon walked back to the store to continue his 'shopping'. When he reached the entrance he paused upon hearing...crunching... chewing?

She walked away from the store so it couldn't be...

"Bonnie...?" Damon cautious walked towards the suspicious noise, his feet barely touching the ground to avoid alerting whoever or whatever it was.

 _God, I sound like the witch now._  He internally groaned.

As he rounded home decor aisle where he and the witch had been, he was met by a man lounging in a lawn chair obnoxiously munching on a pack of pork rinds.

Damon shakes his head and blinks hard, trying to rid himself of the mirage.

"Hiya, Damon!" The man exclaims around a mouthful.

He quickly caught his wits and put up his defences, weary at the fact this stranger knew his name and acted like he should know his. "Who are you?"

"Kai, Kai Parker. Actually it's, Malachai Parker. Or Parker, Malachai Parker, if you're fancy. But please call me Kai."

Damon scowled, already annoyed at this guy's presence.

"Okay,  _Kai_ , if you do not explain why you're here and what is has to do with  _me_ , I will proceed rip your throat out."

"Oh Damon, your reckless mouth has already driven Bonnie away, what is it?" He pretended to count on his fingers, "Oh yeah, thirteen times."

Damon glared at the man, irked at the fact that this guy has obviously been watching them, for reasons he has yet to disclose.

Damon made the short walk down the aisle to reach for the conveniently placed bourbon. He was going to need it, if he had to listen to this nutcase talk.

"You see Damon, unlike Bonnie, I have a much more effective way of...taming the tongue." A sly grin overtook the man's face, as Damon popped off the cork and downed a much needed gulp.

Damon raised an eyebrow at the man's ominous words. However his question was answered by the sudden agonising sensation of the scorching bourbon ripping its way down his throat. Sure bourbon burns but definitely not like this. It was the distinct, vicious burn of vervain.

Damon choked, coughing up the poisonous liquor. He gripped his throat in vain, trying to calm the singeing of his oesophagus. He let out a loud growl and crumpled to the floor.

"Gah! Son of bitch!" he managed to croak out, at Malachai Parker, who watched the display with ill contained amusement.

Kai lazily raised out of the lawn chair and reached for wooden rake resting at his foot. "You see Damon I've been studying you and Bonnie for quite sometime now. It's been like watching reruns of a really bad romcom." His voice took on a rhythmic tune as he said, "Tease Bonnie. Annoy Bonnie. Argue with Bonnie. Bonnie runs away. Feel guilty. Drown in bourbon. Bonnie comes back. Apologize to Bonnie. And repeat." Kai let out an exaggerated breath, as if the tune had been hard to carry, which in his case,  _it was._

"As expected Bonnie walked away and you were in search for some liquid courage. Of course, I didnt know which bottle you were going to take, so I vervained all of them." Kai raised the raks he had been hilding and took a strong swing to the shelves. The vervain infected bottles shattered and came crashing to the ground, the liquid spilling all over the floor and the vampire on it. Damon wheezed out in pain as the droplets of acid attacked his exposed skin. Hs could feel the blisters forming all over his face and neck. His fingers gripped the ground in an to attempt to push himself up, but his hands were immediately burned by the vervain spiked whiskey coating the ground.

Kai held the rake with both hands and hiked up his knee to snap the rake in half so he was left with sharp wooden points.

"You, Damon, are of absolutely no use to me. All you'll do is slow down my master escape hatch. Ciao, mi amgio!" Kai animatedly exclaimed, as he raised the stake preparing to sink it through the vampire's chest.

"Stop!" Kai paused his movemts as the heads of the two men shot up to the source if the sound. There stood a fuming Bonnie Bennett.

"Ah, the slightly less, useless one is here! It's so great to officially meet you Bonnie." Bonnie's lip curled at his mockingly high pitched voice and sarcastic grin. She has spend the last four months praying for a- much need, turn of events. Anything, anything at all, as long as it would give them some clue as to where they are and how the hell do they get out.

Bonnie had been scouring the area across the street when she heard Damon's resounding groans. She immediately fled back to the store, eager for anything to show itself.

However she was not prepared to see a strange man towering over the cowering frame of the infamous Damon Salvatore, with a wooden stick pointed to his chest.

Surely Damon hadn't managed to royally piss this person off within that short of amount of time. Well, it's Damon, so that question answers itself.

Of course this is Bonnie's life, so just when there was a ray of hope, it was quickly diminished by a gigantic asshole. However, in this scenario, it was not the asshole she was used to. He was currently lying limp, in a puddle of vervained whiskey.

"I would say the same, but unfortunately, you attempting to jab a stake through my friend's chest, makes me less inclined to do so. Who are you?"

"Don't worry, BonBon. We'll definitely get to know each other. But first," He raised the stake again.

Bonnie felt that surge of emotion flow through her again, tickling her skin. This man had no good intentions in helping them, and was now attempting to kill the one thing that has kept her grounded for the past four months.

She wasn't constantly wallowing in self pity, because he was always around the corner to royally piss her off; allowing Bonnie to focus all her energy on finding a way to get far away from him.

Although she will never outright admit it, when he wasn't being the asshole of all assholes, he was actually a decent enough person. Nine out ten times he managed to say all the wrong things. He told her the raw truth and quite honestly, the truth hurts. What's more, his spiteful delivery added salt to an already open wound.

However, the one out of ten times that he did say something right; she found herself wondering how Damon, of all people, was able to raise her spirits, make her smile and keep her hope-tank filled.

He had a unique way of comforting. Often enough it was sarcastic comments that required her to read between the lines, to understand what he was refusing to explicitly say.

His petty need to maintain his 'bad-ass vamp' persona was equally amusing and frustrating for the witch. She had gotten glimpses here and there of the man underneath, when he would surprise her with three-course dinners or bring up what he used to do for fun when he was child.

Bonnie found Damon to be a confusing but intriguing person, and their friendship was as equally perplexing.

When wasn't scowling at him she was smiling. When she wasn't shouting at him, she was laughing. When she wasn't pushing him away, she was hugging him. Undoubtedly, their new found dynamic was strange, but what about the two of them wasn't.

Looking at him now, the effects of vervain making it difficult for him to breathe, as this guy held a stake over his distressed body, Bonnie felt a jolt of determination breeze through her. She needed to protect him. She had to protect him. She doesn't know how she would put up, being alone with this murderous headcase before her. She needs Damon to light a fire under her ass, and give her that burst of motivation she needs to figure out a way to save them both.

She needs Damon. At her resolve Bonnie felt something click in her chest. It was like someone jump started her heart. She felt that familiar flow of power ooze throughout her being. Goosebumps marred her skin as this chilling yet refreshing confidence pumped through her blood. Her fingertips tingled, itching to release the power building up in her body.

Bonnie focused her vision on the candle resting on the shelf in front of her. She cleared her mind of everything else and whispered a single enchantment. "Incendia," the candle flared to life. Bonnie gasped in astonishment, and watched the small flame dance, reflecting her feeling of victory. Bonnie's wide eyes met Damon's, who's were equally wide in surprise. He gave her a proud smirk.

"Go." Bonnie ordered the vampire. With the effects of the vervain wearing off Damon managed the strength to find his footing and bounded out of the store, trusting the witch's ability to knock that dick on his behind.

Said dick looked at Bonnie in both surprise and slight fear. He raised his eyebrows as a challenge to see what the witch was going to do. The witch raised a perfectly arched brow back at him, a smug smirk playing on her lips. "Incendia" the witch muttered again and watched as the spilled alcohol caught flame, surrounding Kai in a burning cage.

"Useless my ass."


	2. Matter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do you know, what you don't know?  
> Bonnie and Damon pride themselves on the fact that they know themselves and will fight for what they believe in, no matter the consequences. Will this mutual fatal flaw connect them, or have they been connected all along?  
> My take on S6 and on wards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya babes! Here's the next chap! I wish I could update like every week or so but writing is hard y'all. Please excuse any typos cause I really wanted to get this chapter out.
> 
> quick note *chapter one and two have been merged to form chapter one because I thought they were too short on their own :/
> 
> Enjoy!

Bonnie stormed out of the automatic doors of the supermarket. She was met by a darkly clothed figure leaning against the door of a blue vehicle. It was a man, he was smiling.

Why was he smiling at her?

There was a definite sense of déjà vu, the image was familiar.

Why couldn't she make sense of it?

She blinked hard, hoping it would clear her mind and blurry vision. When she opened she eyes again, the sight was even more discombobulating than before.

She was on a high. She could feel her born-again magic buzzing throughout her blood. Her arteries pumped the fizzing blood through her tissues, making her body vibrate. Her veins dragged away fizzed-out blood, to where it was boiled again by her jumping heart. The energetic blood could not be prisoned within the confines of her body. She felt the lively blood tip-toe out of her unassuming nostrils and slither down her cupids bow, staining her full lips.

She was hot. She was burning. It was as if the fires she just concocted were flaming away in her body, as they also scorched the man writhing on the shop floor.

She could distinctly hear two voices calling her name. One from behind, the voice laced with desperate fury. The other a few feet in front of her. Their calm voice radiating concern for the distorted witch. She urged her feet to move towards the kind beckoning, she felt one of her arms blindly reach out to find support for her overwhelmed body.

The voices began to merge together. She could no longer tell the angel perched on her right shoulder, from the demon latched on her left shoulder. She could no longer tell which direction she was moving. She felt like she was floating.

Weightless.

She was ripped from reality and was levitating in a timeless dimension. Well, she was ripped was ripped from one timeless dimension and transported to another.

She was alone, floating in an dark navy, almost black, abyss, littered with mesmerising twinkling starlight. The stars encompassed her floundering body, creating a makeshift bed to cradle the delicate woman. Unlike in the dimension she had grown used to, the solitary was not suffocating. The helplessness did not bring a berating of depressed, self- deprecating thoughts. Instead, in the solitary, she found an oasis of utter serenity. In the helplessness, she found an abundance of trust in her surroundings.

For the first time, in a long time, she was not in contest with the stress of responsibility. She was not on the defence line of a long lived battle between life and death.

She was free.

Her name continued to be echoed in her head, "Bon? Bonnie!" Her legs gave out. She felt her head hit a hard surface, it was too soft and too warm to be the tarmac of the parking lot. She turned her nose into what she hazily realised was a fabric covered chest. Regardless of where she was, she felt safe.

"I'm free." She unintelligibly whispered into the stranger's chest, before she happily gave into the twinkling stars.

* * *

"Bonnie! Wake up, dammit!"

The voice sounded again. It was a constant echo, disrupting the tranquillity she was so much enjoying; Like the continuous ticking of a clock, interrupting a comfortable slumber: No matter how much she tried to ignore it and bask in her peace, reality was creeping through and signalling an end to the journey of the subconscious.

She felt her eyelids flicker against her will. She relentlessly tried to fight it, but her eyelashes defiantly separated. Her olive green orbs snapped open and were met by familiar ice blue ones.

Recognising the scent of lavender laundry detergent, she noticed her head was nestled in the cotton pillows of her queen-sized bed. There was an ice-cube-filled towel being held against her perspiring forehead.

"Wha-what happened?" She groaned through her parched mouth, her voice barely distinguishable.

"You should tell me that! You ran out of the store, your nose started bleeding and you just collapsed!"

Her dainty fingers reached up to her cupid's bow to feel for the blood he mentioned.

"Don't worry I took care of that," Damon reassured, halting her movement.

Her hand then replaced his on the makeshift ice pack as she groggily sat up, softly groaning with her slow movements. She felt a strange throbbing all over her body, as if every square inch of her was bruised purple. She had to take a discreet peak at her exposed legs to make sure she wasn't.

Even though her skin was still a smooth caramel, she was sure her brain was a mangled mess. She had a migraine like never before. Instead of the expected slow throbbing she got, every time she over worked herself, it was like someone was taking a hammer to her head every time she breathed in.

"I don't know, I think its my body getting used to magic again. That may have been too big of a spell, too soon."

"Ya think!" he angrily retorted. "You scared the shit out of me. It would just be Classic Bonnie to finally get her magic back, only die five minutes later because of her idiotic need to overexert herself!" He crossed his arms with a cool, disapproving glare at the witch.

She met his glare from beneath her lashes. The vampires face slightly fell in guilt, at her dejected disposition. He let out a heavy sigh and uncrossed his arms, before he spoke again, his voice low and soft.

"There's some Advil if you have headache" He pointed to the bedside table where two small pills lay beside a tall glass of water. The witch grabbed the pills, tilted her head back and downed them with a large gulp of the water. She could feel her body temperature quickly calming down.

"I haven't even thanked you for saving my sorry ass. Classic Damon." He scoffed with a playful eye roll. He shifted in his seat on the floral bed sheets, moving closer to the witch. He reached his fingers out to cradle the witch's hand, rubbing his thumb gently across the back of it. "How are you feeling, Witchy?" Damon emphasised with a small but proud smile.

The witch took another eager gulp of the water and put the glass back down, before she returned his smile and took a deep breath. "I don't know, when I collapsed it was like nothing I've experienced"

"What do you mean?"

"It was like I was transported to another universe or something, I completely checked out. It was nice... really nice. It was like every burden of life had been lifted off of my shoulders. I felt...free."

Damon squinted his eyes and pursed his lips in thought. "Interesting," he clicked his tongue and suddenly stood up, his face brightened in cheer. "Well, I think this calls for a celebration, Witchy. Get up." He tugged on her small hand.

"Ugh, no. I feel like I got hit by a car on a freeway. I'm not moving anytime soon"

Damon let out an exaggerated groan of irritation. "Buzz Kill. If you can't go to the party, bring the party to you."

"Your cheesiness is almost unbelievable."

"We all love a little cheese." He replied with a wink.

She ignored his remark, "What's your plan?"

"You're the disabled one, what do you feel you can do?"

"I just want to lay in bed and watch reruns of Fresh Prince."

"You do realise the episodes you watched yesterday, are gonna be the same ones today, much like how they were the same ones a month ago."

"Damon, I'm really not in the mood for our daily discussion of how unfortunate my life is. I'm quite aware by now. Besides I got my magic back, so obviously I'm not as unlucky as you claim I am."

"Which is why I'll bring the bourbon." He smirked, turning towards the door.

"Could you bring me up my Doritos and salsa dip?"

He turned back around and gave the witch an expectant stare.

"Pleeease." She sang, prettily batting her eyelashes.

He rolled his eyes heavenward, before turning on his heel.

"Wait!" Her hand shot out to grab his, "Could you also bring up my purple blanket, I left it on the sofa last night."

With a straight face, he flicked the tip of her nose, and headed back to the door.

"Thank you!" She called at his retreating figure.

"Yeah, yeah," Bonnie heard him murmur, as she giggled at his expense.

By the time Bonnie had the TV on and flicked through the channels to find the scheduled episodes of 'Fresh Prince of Bel-Air', that she had already watched numerous times over the past months, Damon waltzed back into the room. He had the Doritos in his right hand and the dip in his left. The bourbon was nestled under his arm, while the blanket was haphazardly thrown over his shoulder. He walked to Bonnie's side of the double bed, where she was lounging against the array of purple and gold decorative pillows and tall, plum velvet, quilted headboard.

He held the chips and dip out to her which she happily grabbed for, but Damon quickly pulled his arms back and gave the witch another expectant stare.

She rolled her eyes, and heavily enunciated the words, "Thank. You. Damon."

"You know, you're manners are surprisingly appalling." Bonnie jaw comically dropped in disbelief.

"Says you! I have perfect manners; You're just annoying."

"Says you!" He mocked in a higher octave. He relented the junk food and walked to the unoccupied side of the bed. He placed the bourbon on the bedside table, then yanked the purple blanket off his shoulder. Having already removed his shoes when Bonnie was unconscious, he flung himself onto the bed. The springs in the mattress squeaked as he bounced, startling the witch. He chuckled at her look of annoyance and spread the plush purple blanket over their bare feet.

As Bonnie munched on her snacks and drowned in the familiar dialogue of the TV show, her mind wandered to the events of the day. After months of determined hope, she finally found something, but just her luck it was a someone that wanted to kill them.

Then again...they're already dead, so would they have died for real, as in heaven or hell, or would they just have woken up again, like nothing happened?

Sure, Bonnie engulfed him a circle of fire, but she never stayed to see if he actually died. If he did die, did she just ruin her chance of freedom? She didn't even find out how or why was he here, wherever here is. What if he was sent by Grams to get her out? Him, trying to kill Damon wouldn't have been that surprising, considering Damon hitched a ride in Grams' Escape-Express without a valid ticket.

She got her magic back. Her only focus has been getting back her magic, that was the first step to finding a way out, but now that step one is out of the way, she realises she has no other steps to follow. What does she do now?

Damon has been nagging her since they've been there, about her inability to do magic; but now that she can, he's all of a sudden okay with lounging around, watching pointless television? So okay, he called it their 'celebration', as sad as it was; but she thought for sure he would have whizzing around looking through endless texts, trying to find a way back to Elena, now that the option was on the horizon.

What if he thinks she just can't do it, with or without magic? What if she actually can't? She just performed a spell that she used to be able to do without breaking a single sweat, but now it's making her burn up and pass out. She's always denied being useless, what if she is?

That man, asshole or not, could have given her answers she desperately needed; but, as always, Bonnie put the wellbeing over her friends above hers. It's how she got into this mess, and it's the reason she won't get out.

Then again, helping Damon, was for her sake too. Damon gave her fight and determination to continue to have hope. Damon has been the ledge she held onto, to avoid drowning in her sorrow. If she had to figure out this dilemma on her own, completely alone, she was going to crumble.

"Hey, you okay?" Damon shook her out of her reverie.

"That man, what happened to him?"

"Uhh, you fried him." He shot her a questionable look.

"Yeah, is he dead?"

He briefly turned his head away in thought, before meeting the witch's asking stare.

"Honestly I don't really know, I was kinda distracted by you collapsing. I didn't stick around. If it's any help I think he eventually stopped screaming."

Her hazel green eyes sharply pierced into his ice blue ones, "Damon, we have to go back. He could have been our way out of here, and I might have completely ruined our chances by killing him."

"I don't think the guy trying to kill me was going to be any help." He stated matter-of-fact-ly.

"We don't know that for sure. He could have been bluffing."

Damon rolled his eyes at her naivety.

"Even if he was bluffing, we know the guy is crazy. I'm a vampire, the fact that I wasn't able to detect that guy stalking our every move, shows he's a pro at this. Creep alert. We're better off without him."

"Damon, you've been the one constantly whining about how much you miss Elena. I thought you'd be the first to jump on this opportunity, no matter how sketchy it was. Why the sudden change of heart?" She narrowed her eyes at the vampire in question.

"It's called being logical, something you need to be educated on."

"Do you think I'm not capable of getting us home?" She folded her arms under her breast, her eyes now slits.

"Bon...it's not th-"

"No!" Damon winced at her sudden outburst. "Be honest. Do you think I'm such an incompetent witch, that there's no hope in my ability to find a way to get us home?"

"Bonnie-" He tried again.

"Why am I even asking?" She scoffed at herself. "I mean, you've always made it perfectly clear about how inadequate I am. Maybe I should thank you because no else had the decency to tell me." She gave a humourless laugh, her eyes began to glisten.

"Bon, listen-" He moved to rub her arm.

"No!" Bonnie leapt out of the bed, her bodily pain a distant memory now. She pointed a long finger at him and further raised her voice, tears now running down her cheeks. "I always try! I try so fucking hard! Give everything and everyone all of me! I do everything I possibly can! I've always put my life at risk and have even died! Twice! I give all of you everything I have, but it's never enough! I'm never enough! My life is never enough!" She was shouting, her arms viciously flailing with every heart-breaking remark.

Her breathing was heavy, her chest excessively rising and falling with each in take. The tips of her ears were an angry red, and tear stains marked her agonised visage. She engaged Damon in another of their intense staring matches. She took note of how patient Damon appeared as he listened to her sorrow filled rant. Her heavy breath caught and she let out a deep rumbling sob that racked through her entire body. She dropped to her weak knees. The pain came rushing back, now both physical and emotional. She curled herself into a fetal position on the oak wood tiles, letting the cries, sobs, wheezes and hiccups free.

The almost non existent wind outside began to pick up: a hum, a whistle, and eventually a howl. Damon glanced through the windows and watched as the trees were forced to rock to the beat of the volatile wind. The wind swept in through the gaps of the open windows causing the bedroom door to slam shut and loose papers to dance in the air.

Damon carefully moved to the witches side. He dragged the blanket off the bed with him and tentatively cocooned the small quivering woman, as he bent to carry her bridal style.

He sat back down on the bed comforter with the witch still in his grasp, curled on his lap, her head tucked into the crook of his neck. Her sobs eventually calmed down to whimpers, tears still rolled down her hot face. He rubbed her back in circles as he waited for her to stop shaking and even out her breathing. He didn't bother to reassure her with bullshit, like telling her 'its okay' or 'everything is gonna be fine', because he knew it wasn't and she knew it wasn't. Lying to themselves wasn't going to help anything.

Besides, this breakdown was the result of years of harbouring self-esteem and abandonment issues. Damon empathised with the woman, but he saw himself in no position to be able to make her feel better; he's lived for almost two-hundred years and has yet to understand a single one of his  _many_  issues. However, if Bonnie's consistent nagging has taught him anything, it's that: you don't know until you try.

When Bonnie was finally quiet and breathing evenly, the wind returned to a gentle breeze. "Bon?" his voice a whisper.

"Mhm?" She hummed into his neck.

"Talk to me. I'm no expert, but you obviously need to get a lot off your chest. Hold it in and it's only going to come back ten times worse."

"I don't know where to start." Her voice was vulnerable almost childlike.

"Just talk." His voice was soft but firm.

"It's just...I feel like I don't...matter. People just don't care about me. They only care for what I can give them. Since I realised I was a witch, it seemed the people I call my friends, only acknowledged my existence or showed up at my door if they required an impromptu spell for protection or needed magical information.

"I would find myself waist deep in problems that I hadn't even caused, but was expected to solve. I constantly found myself staring death in the face, to what end? Because sure enough the next week would bring an even bigger dilemma, that would probably cost my life. It got to the point where my desire to help, has made you guys expect me to put my life down; because ultimately my life isn't the one that matters most.

"Regardless, I lay down and accept it because all my life I have never had someone, expect maybe Grams, tell me that I mean more to them. Not that I expect to, because, as Grams says: no man is truly better than his neighbour; but I just want to feel wanted. Not needed for my magic or advice; wanted for me. My desire to be wanted has led to me putting up with all this shit because it makes me feel needed.  _God, I'm so pathetic._ " She gave a self-deprecating huff.

Bonnie continued talking. Damon continued listening.

"I mean, even my own mother thought another child's life was worth more than mine. My father found work more interesting than spending time with his daughter. I was dead and he didn't even notice a fucking difference. Nobody did. Yes know I covered it up, but you would think my parents, my friends of almost two decades, would notice something sooner than they did. That just goes to fucking show, that to you people, there is nothing worthy to my existence other than my ability to save your fucking asses. Once all the problems were said and done, I was fucking dead to all of you.

"But I guess it kind of works in my favour because  _my_   _boyfriend_  has some weird fetish for dead people." She let out sudden giggle. "I sacrificed my life for him, and he thanks me by cheating on me with his dead ex-girlfriend! He found more comfort in a ghost than he did with me!" Bonnie doubled over in giggles. "That's what I get for dating a man-child.  _My life is fucking hilarious_. My boyfriend cheated on me with a ghost, someone call Maury!" She began crying from her excessive laughter. Damon remained silent but loosed his hold around her when she started shaking with her inappropriate laughter. His face was contrite as he waited for the other shoe to drop: when she her cries of humour would turn to cries of misery.

Sure enough they did.

Her laughter merged into sobs that racked through her body again. Damon wrapped his arms tight around her and pulled her to his chest again. She fisted his cotton shirt in her small hands and curled herself tightly against him. Her forehead rested against his neck, the salt water of her tears soiling his Calvin Klein t-shirt. He gently rocked her, patiently waiting for her cries to die out.

It could've been ten minutes or an hour, but Bonnie eventually stopped crying, when she fell asleep in his arms. He gently manoeuvred from under her and tucked her small body under the plush comforter. He pressed a light kiss to her warm forehead and left the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked, please leave Kudos and Comment to tell me what you think!


	3. Clarify

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! This chapter is basically like a diary entry. In the show, they don't talk about the Salvatore's human lifes before the Katherine bull, so I wanted to delve into Damon's mind. 
> 
> Enjoy!

 

Damon sat at the dining table nursing his signature glass of bourbon. He had pulled a chair out and straddled the back. He was facing the roaring flames in the grand fireplace, his right arm folded across the top of the chair frame. The crystal tumbler: dangling from between the fingertips of his left arm, that was carelessly draped over the back of the chair. He laid his head on his right elbow, studying the movement of the amber liquid in the glass; as his wrist softly twirled around, making the alcohol follow his lead.

Remembering the roaring flames that engulfed 'Crazy Guy, Kai'; he gives a low chuckle at the times the witch threatened to light his ass up.

Throughout the months they've been here, he's been secretly glad that she had no magic; with the amount of crap he gives her, she would have no doubt snapped, and followed through with her promise to fry him.

He allowed himself to irritate her so much, because he knows: that at the end of the day she can't do shit to him; and like the dick he is, he'd always make sure to remind her.

But now she has her magic.

She claims _Malachai il Maniaco_ : the man that tried to kill him for no valid reason, could have been _help_. Damon knows people like that. Damon _is_ people like that. They want one thing and won't let _anything_ get in the way of them achieving it; if Kai is who Damon thinks he is, then he can't be trusted.

Damon and Bonnie will find a way. Damon and Bonnie always find a way.

However, given Bonnie's current state of mind, the way won't be found for quite a while. And quite honestly Damon doesn't mind all that much. Now that the door to the real world has been cracked open, he's not exactly sure he wants to peek inside. Sure, he's made it very clear to the little witch that he'd rather be anywhere else; and to a degree that's true, because no matter how much Damon dislikes the human species, or species period, they made life interesting.

But the lonesomeness has given him a clarity. A clarity that has taken him two decades to finally find. He realised that although he chants his desire for Elena religiously, it is truly his brother that he finds himself longing for the most. It's no secret that him and his brother have many, _many_ unresolved and underlying issues- but at the end of it all, Stefan will always be his baby brother. With the intense solitude, some days he is forced to reminisce about the days when his brother was his best friend, confidant and loyal companion.

He remembers an evening he spent with his brother and mother. He must have been around twelve years old, so Stefan was about five. His father was out of town on 'business', so the trio took advantage of the rare relaxed atmosphere to sit in front of the roaring fireplace, in his mother's library while she read ' _The History of Little Henry and his Bearer_ '. The brothers lay side by side on the foreign rug in front of the grand armchair their mother was perched in, listening attentively to the string of words falling from her lips. Anytime she read to them, at random points, she would ask one of them to read a section, correcting them when they mispronounced words, or explaining when Stefan, the ever curious child, asked what Sherwood was rambling on about.

His mother was a very educated woman, which was especially surprising for a married woman of that time. She was always reading, immersing herself in whatever she could get her hands on, eager to quench her thirst for knowledge. She made sure to install this desire to learn in her children. When they were young children she would engage them in numerous activities to find out what they liked and would then continue to nurture that interest as they got older. For example, where Damon loved to read, Stefan loved to write. Each month she would assign Damon a book to read and each year she would gift Stefan a journal to fill up. Where Damon preferred to play the piano, Stefan would rather play the violin. Although, Stefan stopped playing when his father had scoffed and stated that " _music inhibits an intellectual mind_ ", because where Stefan's inquisitive mind enjoyed the sciences, Damon's fanciful ideals appealed to the arts.

His mother believed all knowledge to be worthy of being acknowledged, so she sang their high praises in whatever they chose to do. His father however did not sing the same tune. He believed an honourable man was well educated in mathematics, the sciences and literature. There was no need to waste time with pointless activities like painting and music when you could spend that time filling your head with knowledge to secure your academic future. If you were born a Salvatore you either decided to: carry on the legacy of the family business, study law to become a hard-headed lawyer or become well versed in the sciences to be a respected doctor.

Stefan happily chose the option to become a doctor, but Damon wanted none of the above. Like his mother, Damon wanted to know anything and everything of the world, he did not want to be suffocated to fit the mould of a perfect Victorian gentleman. His father made it a point to let Damon know how much of a better son and man his brother was. He would compare Stefan's academic achievements to Damon's lack thereof, never missing an opportunity to remind Damon of how incompetent he is. His father almost took delight in belittling his oldest son.

Damon's only way of tolerating Giuseppe was to stay with his mother most of the time. She filled the void Giuseppe had created in his self-esteem and nurtured his fractured being back to health after each one of Giuseppe's tirades. By the time Stefan was five she had already noticed the divide Giuseppe was creating between the brothers: often telling the young one to ignore the antics of his wayward elder brother. She did the best she could to make sure they did not let his petty bigotry break their brotherhood.

After she finished reading, she put the book down and lifted Stefan onto the armchair beside her, while Damon scooted closer to her legs and laid his head against her full skirt. She cradled Stefan against her side and stroked Damon's hair as she said,

" _Your brother is the best friend you will ever have. It is your duty to love and protect each other as I will not always be there to do it, because there are somethings that a mother should not be involved in, because someday you might find yourself in a predicament where you need an undoubtedly loyal friend, a friend you can trust with your life. A brother. Regardless of the friendships you will form, the women you will marry; until the day you die, your brother will always be your constant. In the chance you have an unforgivable falling out, you will never be rid of your brother, he will always be there. Therefore, it is crucial to maintain the love and trust of your brotherly bond. It is a relationship bonded at birth; no thing or no person, will or ever should contest to that_."

Since his mother died whenever he could feel jealousy or resentment towards his brother rearing it's ugly head, he would replay his mother's words in his head, to rid the effect of Giuseppe's. Unfortunately his mother's words, _conveniently_ , had no effect against Katherine's tall tales of forever, Stefan's demand to complete their transitions, his promise to give his brother an eternity of misery, or his competitive desire to have Elena for himself.

Before he and the witch had disappeared into the bright light, Stefan and him had begun working on putting back together their crumbled brotherhood. Although Stefan claims to no longer have hard feelings towards Damon and Elena's relationship, there is still unspoken tensions whenever the subject comes up. Within his and Elena's relationship they also avoid the Stefan subject because, whether she would like to admit it or not, Damon knows she still has feelings for him.

She says everything is friendly- but everyone else begs to differ.

Damon thought that Elena choosing him would help his insecurities of being the second-rate Salvatore, but it seems like they've only gotten worse. Now he finds himself constantly worrying, that something he may do could be the straw that broke the camel's back and sent Elena running back into Stefan's golden arms. He realised that when he's with Elena, he almost forgets Stefan is his brother, and just sees him as the jaundiced ex boyfriend, one of the many people threatening their forbidden union.

Damon realised quite a while ago that if he wanted to fully repair his damaged relationship with his brother then they had to completely let go of everything that fractured it in the first place. _Literally_ , they are rid Katherine; but her presence still remains, _figuratively_.

They claim to be happy to be rid of Katherine, and everything that came with her- _yet_ they smile in a carbon copy of her face everyday and call her Elena.

However, Elena is everything Katherine is not. She's kind. She's selfless. She's good. _And she chose him_. Given it took _a lot_ of convincing, but all that matters is that she, _eventually,_ did.

In the mist of Damon finding out Katherine's true nature of being a conniving bitch, Elena was the ray of light that kept his fantasy of 'forever after' alive. What he couldn't find in Katherine, he found in Elena. Sure his pursuit of Elena was to spite his younger brother, but when he found out the gravity of what being with Elena could do for him, he wasted no time to sink his lovelorn fangs into her. Yes, he fell in love with the other doppelganger awfully fast (and awfully opportune), but that's just how Damon is, impulsive and flighty. Always has been, always will be.

Although Elena is everything Katherine wasn't; on occasion he could look at her and- for a split second- he would think he was looking at Katherine. Sometimes, it happens first thing in the morning, when he is drifting between the junction of his subconscious to consciousness. He would roll over and slowly blink his eyes open, to be confronted with that familiar face. It's a sense of deja vu to the times he would sneak into Katherine's chambers during the night, only to spring his eyes open in the early hours of the morning, remembering he had to stealthily make his way back to his own quarters. During that split second, he almost leaps out of the bed in fear of being caught; to only realise he's in the twenty first century, and the beautiful woman lightly snoring beside him is Elena _not Katherine_.

It's still hard for Damon to believe that _Elena Gilbert_ is _his_ girlfriend.

It's so hard to believe, that sometimes he finds himself purposefully stepping out of line, to test Elena's boundaries and see what will eventually knock some sense back into her, and make her run as far away from him as she can.

Regardless of the shit that went down, Stefan still values Elena's friendship; and, as Damon believes, is mostly likely still waiting for the Delena train to crash and burn so that he can sweep in on his white horse and save the lost Princess.

For Damon, even if his relationship crumbled into a shambles, he is still selfish and self-destructive enough to grasp on to the splinters of their tainted pairing, for the futile fulfilment and validation it gives him to walk around with the ever-desired doppelgänger on his leather-clad arm.

So to answer the witch's question, Damon is not jumping at the opportunity to go home because he has yet to decide if his future with Elena is worth a fractured relationship with his brother. He's been on the outs with Stefan for over a century, so, maybe it's better to choose the devil you know. _But_ \- during that time, he barely saw his brother, so he was not constantly reminded of how things used to be between the two, you know: out of sight, out of mind.

Now they live in the same town, under the same roof, have the same social circle, heck, even have/had the same girlfriend. There is no escaping each other. So even if he chooses to ignore his brother and focus on his girlfriend, Stefan will always be around to cause a small yearning in Damon's cold chest for the once pure relationship he shared with his baby brother, and fill his head with guilt for putting a woman he's known for three years, before family he's had for one-hundred and sixty-six.

Option one: He has a great relationship with his brother, but no Elena.

Option two: He has Elena, but awkward tension towards his brother.

There's also the problem of Elena wanting to be human. Yes, the cure is gone and she claims that she's okay with how things are now but there's sometimes that hollowness he notices in her when they pass: women with rounded bellies, screaming children and wobbling elders. The domestic scene never fit Damon, he enjoys the superiority and eternal youth that comes with vampirism too much, to willing give it up for: a nine to five with minimum wage, mortgages and life insurance, and wrinkles and grey hairs. Knowing he is not _fully_ satisfying his woman in _all_ aspects of her life, because he is _incapable_ of giving her what she wants, leaves him with this gaping hole in his fragile male ego.

He thought he would have figured it out with a lot more time to stir over everything, but what he truly needs is to get another opinion. Over the past week he has been on the fence of bringing up the issue to the witch during one of their drunken tell-alls, but even though he and the witch have gotten a lot closer, he's not quite sure he wants to bare all his insecurities on the table like that. It would be pathetic.

However, he's grown to trust the witch, he's already told her a lot of shit. Shit he hasn't told to _anybody_. He's told her about his travels through Europe, the multitude of interesting people he's come across (and notched on his bedpost, earning heavy eyerolls from the little Bennett). Even talked about shit from his messed up childhood, although those stories only came out _late_ into the night when the girl was so drunk and tired that she probably wouldn't remember anything he said. Unfortunately, he came to find out, drunk on her ass the witch still paid attention to everything. Bonnie's level of devotion is freakish; but he's one to talk.

He found talking to witch _refreshing_. The girl could hold an intelligent conversation. He came to find out that, like him, she was a bit of a literature fanatic. Her knowledge of great poets and novelists was impressive- _for a millennial_. However, they almost came to blows when discussing the meanings behind Stevenson's Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde. Damon says Jekyll was gay and used the Hyde persona to cover up his illicit rendezvous. Bonnie believes that Hyde was an evil spirit that possessed a kooky scientist. Damon argued that he was alive during the time therefore had a better understanding of what most likely would have happened. Bonnie argued that she was a witch therefore had a better understanding of the supernatural and spiritual world. After three hours-- of endless jabs back and forth, quotations from the book, researching interpretations online, and a ten minute presentation each of why their idea was right --later, Damon and Bonnie called it a truce. Bonnie came up with the idea of drawing up and signing a peace treaty, because she knew that if they decided to share interpretations again, it was going to be another battle in a endless war. They _eventually_ both agreed everything was open to interpretation and that each of their inferences were valid and respectable. After it was signed, Damon framed it and hung it up in the library as a reminder.

But honestly, Damon's never felt so comfortable talking to a woman the way he talks to BonBon. Sometimes she makes him feel like a child being scolded by their mother, because: she'll tell you exactly how it is, and call you out on your bullshit, just because she wants you to do better for yourself and the people around you. Though he'll never admit it, he admires her stubborn ability to stick by her morals and enforce goodness in those around her; no matter how irritatingly annoying she can be on her sparkly high horse. He also admires how selfless the Bennett is, but too often she is selfless at a fault. He's never actually said anything, 'cause her martyr complex usually saved his behind (given that Miss Gilbert's name was used as incentive.) Their current situation is a prime example: if the witch hadn't also died, he would've be burning in the fiery pits of hell right about now.

Jokes aside, she could really use some of his tips on how to not give a fuck about everyone else. On the flip side, he could possibly use some pointers on how to completely ignore himself, but that's going to be a challenge for anyone- _have you seen him_?

"Damon?" a tired voice called from the top of the stairs.

Damon knocked back the last sip of his drink, before he called back, "Dining room!"

He heard her barefeet pad across the wooden floors to meet him at the dining table. He didn't turn his head when he felt her near, just continued to listen her get situated: the chair legs scraping against floor as she pulled it back to take a seat.

He finally decided to turn around, when a loud yawn escaped her lips. He stood up grabbed the chair with his right hand and effortlessly carried it back to its place, directly across from where the witch was sitting.

She was swaddled up in her favourite purple blanket. She pulled her knees up and tucked her under her, making sure to cover up her exposed legs.

He placed his empty glass on the table. He slouched back into his seat, making an attentive assessment of the witch. He knew she wouldn't tell him if she was still feeling... _iffy,_ so he had to check himself. When he was satisfied that she wasn't on the verge of another nervous breakdown, he asked.

"How you feeling?"

Bonnie, who had been fiddling with a loose thread on her blanket, turned her head up, wide-eyed- briefly surprised by his voice breaking the comfortable silence. "Better." She answered too quickly. At Damon's raised a brow, she added, "Somewhat...I think." She paused and turned her head to the left in thought, then looked up with a timid smirk. "Sorry for going all teen angst on you."

"Without Stefan's brooding forehead, I was missing out on my daily dose of teen angst." He smirked back at her. "So, I did some thinking." Bonnie gasped and widened her eyes in mock disbelief. "Shut up. Anyway, just to clear up any misconceptions." He stared pointedly at her. "I'm not diving headfirst into getting back home because, lets be honest, if we've been away for as long as we think we have; then so much has undoubtedly changed. I mean, there's _always_ something in Mystic Falls. For all we know there's probably not even a town to get back to. It could have all been sucked into a black hole created by some vengeful superwitch. On the other hand, the gang has probably gotten over our deaths by now, moved on with their lives. _As we expect them to._ Although, going back is a victory for us two, it could be a complete inconvenience for them- at least, where _I'm_ concerned.

"Damon, you don't think Elena and Stefan would- they _love_ you, _okay?_ The Elena I know wouldn't do that to you."

"I know." His jaw clenched. He cleared his throat before talking again. "Of course I want to see my girl and my brother again, but that comes along with all the harsh realities of the real world: Spiteful vamps trying to kill all of us every other week and you, draining yourself of magic, _and life_ , trying to prevent that from happening.

"Although I have, _many a time_ , claimed this place to be hell, you have to admit, it could have been worse. There's a strange comfort that comes with solidarity, being left alone to your thoughts. And.." He let out an exaggerated huff before continuing, "you haven't been _terrible_ company to have, BonBon." A mischievous smirk graced his face, when she rolled her eyes heavenward.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is: I'm all down for finding a way back, but let's not break our necks over it. If you think he can help us, we should see if that Kai guy is still around."

"Well he should be." Damon gave her a questioning look at her confident statement. She explained. "The fire spell I used wasn't very strong, at least not strong enough to kill him. My magic was still trying to establish itself. So at most, he has a few severe burns."

"Good." He abruptly rose from his seat. "Let's go, girl."

Bonnie rolled her eyes. "I told you to stop saying that. You can't pull it off."

Damon obnoxiously clicked his tongue and flipped his non-existent locks. "Girl, don't be a hater." He sassed.

Bonnie struggled to hold back a laugh, and stare at him blankly, muttering a bored yet serious "Oh my God. Please stop."

Damon just chuckled and walked around to her side of the table. He grabbed her arms, and pulled her off the chair and onto her feet with one swift yank. She let out a short shriek.

Damon ignored her scowl. "Come on, we have to figure out Where's _Weirdo_."


End file.
